[19] the cocktail

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𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐄𝐓𝐄𝐄𝐍
the cocktail

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( night school; pt.iii )



THE doors rattle as they're shut, Jackson reaching up and twisting the bolts closed before he looks over his shoulder to Scott coming to a stop with Harrison dangling by his side. Stiles instantly brings Maddie into a hug, his hand going to the back of her head, cradling it as she stands on her tip—toes with her arms around his neck.

"Are you okay?" Stiles questions quietly, trying to keep her close to him for as long as possible.

Maddie shakes her head, not wanting to risk speaking. She had been looking over her shoulder all the way back, careful to make sure that her shoes didn't echo against the tiled flooring because it would either trick her mind into thinking something was behind her or because she was worried that it would stop her from hearing the alpha coming——although if the alpha was coming, she'd have had no chance in running away. . . then how come they've escaped so far?

"Oh, my God, is that blood?" Lydia questions soon after her gasp when she notices the stained jacket. Maddie and Stiles part as they look over, seeing Lydia with her hand over her mouth, unable to take her eyes off the covered injury. "What happened to him?"

Stiles removes himself from Maddie's side, heading over towards Scott. "No, wait, he's hurt!" Maddie quickly alerts when she sees him going for his other side, his bad arm. She already heard Harry cry out in pain and she doesn't need to hear it again. Stiles stops, eyes widening at his up—close look of the injury, the tears in the jacket making him reach only one conclusion. He looks over to Maddie, seeing the panic in her eyes and his hands twitch to walk up to her and hug her again.

With the utmost care in the world, Scott slowly removes Harry's arm from around his shoulders as he steadily drops him to the ground, keeping his back against the wall as Jackson and Allison move the objects back in front of the door. Maddie kneels down beside him, shaking hands reaching for the blood—stained shoulder of the jacket to remove it, attempting to gently tug it off from his body.

She winces when the movement makes Harry let out a short scream of pain, but she needs to see how bad it is. Even if she doesn't have any medical experience, eyeballing an injury to see how bad it is doesn't really require any. She presses her lips together, making them go white from the pressure as she tries not to cry, managing to slip the jacket off his shoulder.

She doesn't attempt to take it off further, worried about any further injuries that she may cause him. His shirt is shredded by the teeth marks, gashes in the shoulder of his white graphic tee, a faded smiley face with crossed out eyes and Nirvana printed on top. Maddie feels the vomit rise in her throat, and she forces herself to swallow it back down as she carefully looks at his split skin. His breaths come through his mouth shakily, barely audible. Panic seizes Maddie's chest as the tears start to gloss over her vision, turning everything blurry. She can't lose him.

"Did you see it? Did you— did you see it?"

Maddie's eyes snap over to meet his, her blink making the tears roll down her face before it hits the floor. Allison speaks before any thoughts can shoot through her head. "Harry, was it Derek? Did you see Derek?"

Empathy ⌯ Stiles StilinskiWhere stories live. Discover now